


tessellations between stars

by jamesstruttingpotter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesstruttingpotter/pseuds/jamesstruttingpotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant’s never believed in the soulmate system. The entire idea sounds like it belongs in some romance novel, not the world he’s been living in for the past twenty-something years. A mark that appears on one’s skin after bonding with their supposed one? Cut him a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tessellations between stars

**Author's Note:**

> First skyeward fic, originally posted on jamesstruttingpotter.tumblr.com. I'll get around to finishing the dystopia AU. Eventually...

Grant’s never believed in the soulmate system. The entire idea sounds like it belongs in some romance novel, not the world he’s been living in for the past twenty-something years. A mark that appears on one’s skin after bonding with their supposed  _one_? Cut him a break.

When he voices these thoughts, the SHIELD psychiatrist in front of him suggests that his disbelief stems from a lack of such bonding between his parents.

Needless to say, Ward is put on two-week probation for punching a co-worker.

* * *

 

Things aren’t much better after he joins Coulson’s band of freaks. (What? That’s what they are. Two painfully naive sciops kids, one psychologically scarred veteran, one  _not-dead_  handler, and one… whatever Ward is… do not a team make.)

It’s alright at first, when things are still new and people are still getting used to each other and shirts are kept on, but soon a bullet clips Coulson’s shoulder and the crisp button-up disappears. Ward tries not to watch the needle pierce the skin around the wound, especially since Coulson’s patching himself up (which yeah, is as gross as it sounds), but doesn’t really succeed until he catches sight of the black bass clef painted across the older man’s chest.

" - really have to keep an eye on that Rising Tide organization, if it’s not a stretch to call them an  _organization_. Ward?”

"What? Oh. Yes, sir."

Coulson misinterprets Ward’s staring completely. “Don’t worry. You’re still young; you’ll find her soon enough.”

Ward shrugs.

* * *

When Ward was much younger, Garrett picked him up for the first time off the side of the highway. It had been raining pretty hard, and Grant could still taste the blood on the inside of his mouth. He hoisted his duffel bag further up his shoulder and waved down the first car he saw.

"You probably shouldn’t be wandering out here alone, son," Garrett said, leaning across the passenger seat.

"No home to go to," Grant replied. "Mind if I hitch a ride?"

"How old are you?"

"18," he lied, "just out of work."

Garrett didn’t buy it, that much was clear, but Grant found himself caring less about what the other man thought and more about what he did, especially when the passenger door suddenly swung open.

"I think I can help find you a job."

* * *

The best part was when he found out that Garrett didn’t have a soulmate mark.

* * *

The double helix that winds its way around Fitz’s wrist is almost hidden by his shirt cuffs, but when Ward notices it for the first time, Simmons obligingly rolls up her own sweater sleeve as well.

"Appeared the first day we were put in the same lab," Fitz tells him, grinning.

"Always took it as a sign that we’d be the best lab partners," Simmons adds fondly, turning back to her microscope.

"And we are," finishes Fitz. "Don’t think I’ll ever need a different partner."

Simmons smiles, distracted but genuine, and Ward watches Fitz’s gaze linger a bit too long before they both turn away from her.

* * *

May has a sharp point dressed in black on her hip. She never lets him touch her there.

* * *

Ward’s lungs are burning and his feet are pounding and his torso is itching from the goddamn SHIELD issued turtleneck Coulson made him wear before they came out here. The white van they’re chasing squeals as it turns down an alley, and Ward smiles grimly as he realizes it’s just come up against a dead end. Coulson seems to have realized the same thing, and he motions for Ward to flank the other side of the vehicle.

Ward gets to the door, gun tight in his hand. There’s muffled movement inside, he can tell that much, but the Rising Tide member inside is still proving elusive. He braces himself for a wiry computer nerd, glasses perched on his face, possibly martial arts training that’ll be embarrassingly easy to overcome.

Right on cue, the door slides open and a small blur shoots out, seeking to evade and escape. His arms automatically shoot out to catch… her. A surprisingly cute her, plus duffel bag.

He blinks. “Did you seriously waste your time packing a bag instead of just getting out and escaping?

"I don’t need escape advice from someone who’s been shackled to a corrupt organization for his entire adult life, okay," she spits, struggling to break his grip.

He pauses for a few seconds before recollecting his wits. “Speaking of shackles,” he says, and then his handcuffs clip her wrists together. She gives an indignant squawk of protest and Ward allows himself a small grin as he hands her off to Coulson.

* * *

It’s not until much later, when he’s in his bunk getting ready for sleep, that he notices the mark. A sooty black X pressed into his forearm stares back at him and he sits down heavily, thumb already trying to rub it away.

Needless to say, it doesn’t disappear.

* * *

Oh, he’s sure it’s because of Skye. He didn’t interact with anyone off the Bus that day except her, and since it’s impossible to be marked twice, he knows it can’t be with anyone on the team. But every time he surreptitiously checks her arm for a matching mark, he finds her skin infuriatingly clear.

Cases like this happen, of course. He’s been marked because he’s ready to fall in love with her, to bond with her on some level that neither one of them can comprehend yet. And it’s not hard to see why. She’s the very definition of open, her heart painted vividly on her sleeve. She’s just waiting for her connection, for someone to meet her halfway and embrace all that she has waiting. 

Ward, on the other hand, has secrets that breed more secrets, and even the prospect of being honest makes his stomach turn with treachery.

For the first time, he wonders whether HYDRA is the reason why Garrett doesn’t have his mark.

For the time being, he takes to wearing long sleeves.

* * *

He  _knows_  when she’s shot. It feels like the bullet has torn through his own stomach and he staggers, gasping for air.

For the next few days, the black X fades to a dull grey, and Grant Ward’s heart lodges permanently in his throat.

* * *

He’s not sure how she figures it out, but sitting there in that diner booth, he knows something is wrong as soon as those cops walk in. He can’t leave her though, not by herself with the hard drive, but before he can think any further, she’s staring at him with no trace of the warmth that existed before. 

"Hail Hydra," she says, and his world explodes.

* * *

It’s probably cruel irony, but when he wipes the blood from his face, he watches her roll up her sleeves and doesn’t for a second look for the mark. He sees his father, his brother, pulling up their sleeves before getting to work on him, belt whistling through the air as if an extension of their arms.

That’s probably why she notices it first, the smoky X that brands her skin. She inhales like he’s shot her for the second time and he drops the rag he’s holding. 

"This is yours," she says, trembling. He moves toward her but she scrambles away, nails dragging against her mark. "This is  _yours_  and I don’t want it, you lying bastard, I don’t  _want to be yours_  - “

He cannot contain the laugh that drips from his mouth. “As if I have ever been anything but yours,” he tells her, the words as bitter as the blood that runs from his lips.

She cries, and as he holds her in his arms, he cannot help but feel as if he’s reached home at last.


End file.
